Mr and Mrs Branson
by TiedImagination
Summary: A modern AU version of Sybil and Branson's life together.
1. Chapter 1

"Branson! Come in here immediately!" The shouting was enough. What could this be about now? The article maybe? Surely it couldn't be about Sybil. No one knew. Did they? Tom shook his head, straightened his back and walked along the corridor leading towards Mr Carson's door at the end. Whatever this was about he knew there was no time left to make up excuses, after all this was the third time Mr Charles Carson had called him. The walls of the hallway itself were plastered with "the very thoughts from the company" as Mrs Hughes had told him on his first day at the paper, Tom never thought to argue with her about this but he knew this wasn't the case. The words on the walls did however contradict the statement considering they were all from well-known articles from famous newspapers. As this was the hallway of a local paper he doubted their writers ever came up with anything near as inspirational as what was plastered on its walls.

After reaching the door Tom hesitated. He didn't know whether this was caused by nervousness or just apprehension. No sooner had Tom raised his arm and poised himself to knock the door, it was thrown open by Charles.  
"Mr Branson. Why do you think I've called you in here?" The look on his aged face was hard to read. But, Tom got the feeling it wasn't for anything good.  
"I don't know sir." A tight ball of nerves was growing in his stomach as the whole room came into focus. Behind Mr Carson was Lord Grantham. The patron for The Downton. The richest man in the county. Sybil's father. Lord Grantham's face, unlike Carson's was as stern, cold and unforgiving as the last winter when Tom's car got trapped on the motorway in over two foot of snow. This wasn't going to be fun but when is meeting the father of your girlfriend for the first time ever very pleasant. Thoughts kept running through his mind about what he would say and if he might possibly get out of the room, alive.

"Mr Branson it was brought to my attention yesterday by Thomas that you and Lady Sybil are involved. Naturally I thought this a preposterous accusation so I –" Carlson continued to speak but Tom knew what was coming. Whilst he had walked Sybil home the night before she was sure that she had seen Carlson and Mr Bates. She had been worrying about it the whole way back. Not because she'd get in trouble but because Tom's job would be on the line if her father found out. "- so I telephoned Lord Grantham to find out if he knew about this affair. He did not. So, he insisted on coming to talk to you himself" Carlson had made the situation seem much less intimidating then it really was.

"Carlson I'll take it from here, thank you". Lord Robert Grantham stood up and shook the hand of Tom's editor and sent him out the room. "So, Tom. As Mr Carlson said, I am here to talk to you about Lady Sybil." Tom nodded, Lord Grantham didn't sound angry but the look of disapproval on his face told a different story. "What is it that you like so much about her then Branson? Is it her innocence? Her money? Her political side? What!?" his tone was getting louder and colder with every syllable. Tom opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off again. "The very idea of your relationship is preposterous! You are not able to support her Tom! Do you hear me? You are not of an appropriate class!" Sybil had said that her parents were stuck in the past but Tom didn't realise it was this bad.  
"Lord Grantham, with all due respect sir. I love your daughter with all my heart and I'm pretty certain that she loves me. I love her because of who she is, not because of what she has to offer me. Nothing you do will change how we feel about each other or stop me from trying to be with her." Tom stood his ground but he could feel the nervous ball in his stomach twist tighter. Lord Grantham reached into his pocket and pulled out his cheque book. When Tom noticed him doing this he was horrified.  
"How much will it take for you to leave my daughter alone."  
"Your Lordship I will not take your money."  
"Tom Branson. You will leave Lady Sybil alone." The emphasis that Lord Grantham put on the word Lady made Tom feel extremely uncomfortable and inadequate. Tom stood almost motionless as he watched Robert take out a pen and start to write down a large number on a cheque.  
"Your Lordship. I stand by my word. I will not be swayed by anything that you offer me. I will continue to see Sybil weather you like it or not." Tom's fists were clenched together against his jeans. Lord Grantham looked up, put down his pen and looked Tom fiercely in the eyes.  
"You will be the ruin of her. You will never have my blessing. And you best make sure that you have a spare bed in whatever squalid place that you live. Sybil will probably be joining you soon. After I speak with her, and she makes her choice. Be prepared for the responsibility that's about to come your way Mr Branson." Robert swiftly made his way to the door and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him with an extreme force that Tom could have sworn the walls shook.

Tom pushed his hand through his hair trying to take in what had just happened. The last time Robert had mentioned Sybil he didn't give her the title 'Lady' and this worried him a little.  
"What have I done?" he muttered to himself, Tom realised that what Lord Grantham had said about being Sybil's ruin would probably end up being true. But it was love and love defeats everything apparently thought Tom. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon, he would still have time to catch Sybil before her shift at the hospital finished so he could warn her about what was to meet her when she arrived home. Tom was going to insist that he accompanied her home and stood by her side whilst Lord Grantham tried to break her down into the old fashioned role that Tom and Sybil both resented so much.


	2. Chapter 2

Whilst ambling down the corridor of Ward 6 Sybil thought how wonderful the weather was that day. She was thankful that she and Tom had decided to take a picnic down to the lake afterwards. She was even more thankful that her parents never thought to learn to cook themselves, meaning that lovely Mrs Patmore will have concocted something delicious for them to eat. Possibly some sort of French chicken or maybe even homemade chip butties. Sybil thought longingly of the last time she had on of Mrs Patmore's chip butties, her tummy started to rumble and she willed time to go faster. The reason was that she was hungry and couldn't wait to see what she had packed for her lunch. Well that and of course seeing Tom.

There was a loud bang at the opposite end of the corridor. Startled out of her happy daze Sybil turned around just in time to see Tom running towards her without slowing in time to stop himself. She held out her arm as a slight barrier and laughed, wondering what could have caused Tom to run. After all he did prefer either to walk or to drive.

She left Tom in the staff room to catch his breath whilst she changed out of her navy, trainee nurse uniform and into something much less restrictive. She looked at her reflection in the full length mirror noting that her black skinny jeans, slightly oversize jumper and boots were not something her parents would approve of but she was only going home to pick up the picnic and then she was "off out with the girls". She pulled on her jacket and joined Tom by the table. Noticing that he looked slightly tense she began to fear something wasn't right.  
"Tom? Whatever is the matter?" She queried, but she would probably have to do more to get her Mr Branson to talk.  
"Sybil, my darling. Oh my Sybil" she reached out and placed her hand over the fist that Tom had created and squeezed it. Tom looked up at her and she could see there was anger in his eyes. "Your father knows."

Those words made her head spin. Going home now was going to be a nightmare. What would be said? What would be done? Tom relayed the whole story to her whilst holding her hand so tightly she thought they may have been going a little blue, that didn't matter to her though. Her father had behaved in a disgusting manor towards the man that she loved. She started to shiver slightly. Tom glanced at her worried, she knew he thought she was becoming ill but in reality Sybil shivered out of nervousness. Her perfectly, sweet afternoon plans with Tom had pretty much gone up in smoke and she was left with this horrifying reality. It would have come sooner or later but, Sybil had wished it to be later and she supposed that Tom had as well. They had expected it but they weren't ready.

Letting go of Tom's hand Sybil stood up gradually and walked towards the kettle that was situated on the counter beside the iron that never ironed properly, the sink and the microwave that took absolutely forever to cook or heat anything to an edible standard. She smiled to herself slightly, thinking about what Mrs Patmore would have said about that. She picked up the kettle and began to follow the extremely well known British routine of making cups of tea during hard times. She never understood why people saw it as a tradition; all she knew was that tea made her feel better in situations like this.

"We will get through this you know." Sybil stared into the depths of Tom's eyes as she heard him say this. She knew he was right but it was hard to believe. Especially considering what was at stake. Abandonment. From her own father. She dearly loved her father but she loved Tom more. This reminded Sybil of the last Shakespearian play she had studied at college. The one where the daughter said that she only loved her father as much as her duty required her too, and then her father disowned her. Sybil couldn't recall the name of the play but she got the feeling that something similar was going to happen if she didn't give up Tom. To others who knew about her fortune, being with Tom seemed like a ridiculous idea.  
"Why don't you marry someone of your own class?" and "What about finding a chap that's not on the bottom of the economy ladder?" were questions that she was used to hearing from her sister Mary and a few of her friends. Sybil knew that she loved him. With all her heart she did. And that is why she decided that she was going to face her father. Tell him what she thought of his atrocious display of manners to Tom this morning. Tell him that she didn't need his money. Tell him that she intended to marry Tom eventually. Tom had offered to hold her hand throughout the talk with her father if it would make it easier for her. She knew that it would, but she didn't want to seem weak.

As they walked their way up the crunchy front drive of Downton Abbey, Tom could only be shocked and in awe of what he was seeing of Sybil's home. He squeezed her had reassuringly when they reached the door and stepped inside.

Having received orders from one of the staff to sit in the library until Lord Grantham came and addressed them both, Tom pilfered through books just as Sybil had done when she had seen his book shelf for the first time. This was something she loved about him. The fact that he read, and read, and read.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter has been updated. I started my next chapter and then decided that the beginning of chapter 4 belonged at the end of chapter 3.

* * *

Sybil stood up and went over to Tom who was still standing by the bookshelves trying to leaf through multiple books at one time.  
"Tom, I think you should sit down." She was right. Tom knew he was only trying to divert attention from the fact that he was quivering inside. He put the three books back on the shelf and went to the hard leather sofa situated in the middle of the room with books for walls. Tom disliked most of the rich upper class British people, with their extravagant houses and decorations. Having never grasped how wealthy Sybil's family was the whole house was a bit of a shock to him and usually he would have despised its very existence, but of all the places Tom had ever seen, he knew that if he had the money he would have a room like this. Maybe two if it was a possibility.

As his eyes glanced around the room admiring the mass of books, his gaze was drawn back to Sybil. She was stood by the window, looking out at the lush fields that she and her sister may have played around in when they were younger. Well, Sybil may have. But after meeting her sisters once when they came to open the new wing of the publishing house, he knew that they didn't like and never would like getting their hands dirty. Compared to them Sybil was a free spirit. He admired that in her. The way she always seemed to go against what her family stood for. That messy, swept up thing she did with her hair even contradicted her family roots. Just looking at her standing there reminded him of just how much he loved her, and how much he was going to fight to keep her.

The door opened, and in came Robert Crawley. His face was ice cold like a glacier.  
"What is this boy doing in my house!? Sybil Crawley you have a lot to explain!" And so it begins, thought Tom. He was fiddling with his fingers nervously. Lord Grantham had a strange effect over him that made Tom feel as if he should grovel at his feet. Perhaps it was the fact he was always in a suit, or his grand library. Maybe even just the manner he walked about the place - carefree and its owner no matter where he was.  
"Is it not humiliating enough to have my daughter working as a nurse!? Clearly it was not. You have decided to run off with this. This wretched boy. This wretched boy that works, for a newspaper. This is the type of boy that will twist every word that is said in this room right now if he had the chance. Sybil have you no shame!? Have you no common sense?" Tom stared at Sybil, willing her to turn around and face the brute that her father seemed to be turning into. Respectable, calm, kind, reasonable Lord Grantham. If that were the case, perhaps he might be a little more reserved instead of blaring for all to hear.  
"Give her some credit! At least she knows her own mind!" Tom stood up quickly and defensively as he said this. Lord Grantham turned fast on his heels.  
"Don't you dare talk to me in that manner young man!"  
"Oh papa, have some respect!" Sybil said.  
Lord Grantham turned his back to Tom again and looked straight over to Sybil, who had her back turned to both of them.  
"Sybil Crawley you better turn around this instant!"

"Why? So you can shout at my face like the uncivilized wretch that you're becoming?" The words came out before Sybil could stop them. She meant them, and the force they came out with seemed to have stopped her father from talking. "Maybe you can look at yourself in the mirror before you go around accusing me of being the humiliation of this family." She was still staring out the window, watching as Mary and her mother walked down to the gardens. In the reflection of the glass she saw her father's face drop, she saw him readjust his suit jacket and replace his look of surprise again with his stone cold look of disapproval. She laughed.  
"This is no laughing matter Sybil!" But no matter what he did, Sybil could see the worried look in his eyes, the look of confusion on Tom's face in was priceless but she'd mock him about that later. This was going better then she had planned. She turned around with a slight smirk on her face.  
"Oh papa, if you only knew how funny it was." Robert's eyes went cold again, as did the rest of his expression. She felt the tables turn again. Back in the favour of her father, but she couldn't quite grasp how it had happened.

"Who else knows of this, preposterous relationship then Sybil?" the question was curt and abrupt. But it was to the point, and if he kept asking things like this Tom thought maybe they could leave sooner, rather than later.  
"Mary. She has already tried and failed to talk me out of it." Sybil was clearly just as abrupt as her father.  
"You will be disinherited!" The threats started coming. "You'll be ruined" Tom shuddered. Lord Grantham had said the same to him.  
"You still don't know the whole story." The response that Sybil shot back at her father shocked Tom. Especially after the way she had shaken after discovering that her father knew.  
"I won't allow it! I won't allow my daughter to throw away her life!"  
"You can poster it all you like papa it won't make any difference!"  
"Oh yes it will!" The angry husk in his voice resonated throughout the room. He was starting to draw the attention of the staff. Many of whom were standing around the doorway listening to what was being said. Sybil noticed this before her father.  
"How!?" Sybil retorted. "It's not like I want any money and you can hardly lock me up until I die! Mr Crawley." Tom didn't expect this either. To address her father like he was a stranger, and to not use his title, was enough for anyone to realise that she had just acknowledged the change in her father. The way that he was a different man now, and only she seemed to know why.

"Do you think I don't hear anything Mr Crawley? I bet you think that my good friend Jane would keep anything from me?" She saw his face drop. "Oh I know about your affair." She started to walk towards him. "How long do you think it will be until I tell mother about it though?" She noted Tom's face. Again it was a picture or both confusion and admiration. "Oh and one more thing, it's Sybil Branson from now on."

Branson looked from Sybil to Lord Grantham and then back to Sybil. The reality of the situation hadn't sunk in yet. Was this Sybil saying yes to marrying him? After a week of uncertain deliberation he had asked her, and it was now two weeks on and she hadn't given him an answer. He knew it was probably because she had a lot to lose if she did marry him, but he loved her and had trusted her to make the right decision. Maybe she was just saying it to annoy her father? If that was the case then it had done the trick, Lord Grantham's face was reddening. It wasn't just scarlet with anger it was also tinged with the pink of embarrassment. Tom's eyes locked with Sybil's for a moment and he saw the reassurance and the answer in her eyes. This was her decision, they were going to marry. Soon, hopefully. But it was definite. Tom couldn't hide the smile from his face.  
"Mr Branson! I don't think this is the time for you to be smiling like a Cheshire cat!" Lord Grantham bellowed.  
"He can do what he likes Mr Crawly. You are not the boss of him. Or me anymore." Sybil said in reply to her father's remark.

Sybil walked over to Tom and slipped her hand into his and held it tightly. It was then that Tom realised that she wasn't as confident as she was making out. He could feel her arm shaking slightly. She had never done this before, never stood up to her father before. He felt her hand tighten around his.  
"I will come back tomorrow for Matthew's wedding. But don't expect my mind to have changed overnight." Sybil paused for a moment thinking things over. "Oh and Tom will be coming too." She then tugged slightly on his arm and they left the room, walked out of the house and went down to the lake where they had planned to go that afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

They sat on the lakeside in silence for about half an hour. The events of the last hour kept unfolding before their eyes. Things that were said, things that shouldn't have been said, things that could have been said and everything in between. The only movement that was made was Tom putting his arm around Sybil's shoulders and pulling her close. The air between them had changed slightly. Tom knew that Sybil would now be pretty much on her own.  
"Tom?" the sound of Sybil's voice broke the silence. It was weaker then Tom remembered. Sybil turned her head and looked at him.  
"Yes love?" he stared back at her.  
"I…I'm sorry about all this." She quickly looked away and gazed across the lake to the field where she spent most of her childhood longing for adulthood, now wishing that she was once again running freely without a care in the world. "I just wish he could understand!" She could feel a tears pricking in her eyes. All the strength she had felt earlier vanished. "He broke a boundary when he married mother. He married someone that he loved." Her sentences started to become broken up with slight sobs of frustration. "It's as if he's forgotten. Given in to the old fashioned ways like the rest of my stupid and…" Tom took hold of her chin and turned her head to his. He kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Sybil. Don't be sorry. None of this is your fault" He wiped away the tears that were gradually falling down Sybil's cheeks and kissed her again. "No matter what happens, I will love you." Sybil looked down, assuring herself that this mess was all going to be worth it.  
"I love you too." Even as she said this she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She felt terrible putting Tom through all of this, it was the last thing that he deserved.  
"Then bet on me. And if your family casts you off it won't be forever. They'll come around. And until they do, I promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness." New tears pricked into Sybil's eyes.  
"Tom, I don't deserve you." She reached up and put her arms around his neck whilst he gently wiped away her new mass of tears.  
"Love, we'll be in Ireland sooner than you think" He pecked her nose and pressed his forehead against hers. "Then we can put all of this behind us."

Tom wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly. Sybil smiled a little, she always felt safe, secure and protected when his arms were around her. It was a slight cliché to think this but she couldn't help it.  
"Love?"  
"Hmm?"  
"What do I wear to an aristocratic wedding?" This made Sybil giggle. "I'm serious!" Tom said through his smile, trying not to let Sybil's infectious laugh get to him. "I've never been to one before." Sybil was still laughing and Tom was really struggling not to join in. "Sybil it's not funny" he said as he began to laugh along with her.  
"Of all the things to bring up right now" Sybil had to take in a little more breath then usual before finishing her sentence. "You shall wear the suit from your wardrobe that you wore the last time we went out together" she said as seriously as she could. Tom was still laughing at the inappropriateness of his question. "And then you shall wear your most comical tie!" They both began to laugh uncontrollably and fell back on the grass, glad that the seriousness of earlier events was lessened.


End file.
